


Pretty Boy

by BigBadLittleRed



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Bigotry, Crossdressing, Exploration, Homophobic Slurs, Quentin likes stereotypically feminine clothes, cute stuff, kinda Queliot i guess, supportive Eliot, supportive Margo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadLittleRed/pseuds/BigBadLittleRed
Summary: Quentin decides that he wants to change up his style, Margo is more than happy to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ( For my friend Geena, who proposed this idea! )

Margo, while deeply invested in her relationship with Eliot, does in fact enjoy alone time. It’s a rarity for her to be seen without Eliot simply because with him, it’s kind of like being alone. She never tired of the man and he never seemed to tire of her, but sometimes she just needed to be alone and relax. Eliot was downstairs serving drinks and she was up in her room with a small pile of magazines and a bag of her favorite double chocolate chip cookies.

 

A knock at her door pulls her attention from her current magazine, and she’s surprised when Quentin’s head peeks into the room.

 

“Hey nerd, what’s up?” She smirks, Quentin grows flustered at that, more than usual, which is suspicious. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, taking in a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and slowly exhaling as if preparing himself for something. “Oh god please don’t confess your love for me.” She says immediately, Quentin shoots her a glare and drops his hands to his hips.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about… clothes.” He says quietly, she frowns and sets her magazine to the side.

 

“I’m listening,” She allows, intrigued, Quentin steps closer to her bed and nervously fidgets his hands together.

 

“Um, well you see…” He can’t meet her eyes, seems on edge and almost worried, what the hell was going on? “I was just wondering if you could teach me how to dress, because I don’t have any style and I wanted to try _new things_.”

 

“Oh I have been waiting for this moment,” She stands up, taking him by the hands and grinning brightly. “We can put you in blazers and I can get you a bowtie to go with your eyes…” She’s rambling, already picturing dozens of outfits he would look perfect in.

 

“N-No, not clothes like that.” Quentin’s face is getting red, Margo pauses in confusion. “Like… Girl clothes, I guess.” He admits, looking down at their feet in shame.

 

Margo feels a sense of overt protectiveness and anger wash through her, which she had a habit of feeling for Quentin for some reason. The kid looked like a kicked puppy most days, it was hard not to feel defensive on his behalf. But looking at him seem so embarrassed asking to wear clothes that most of the bullshit patriarchal society said he shouldn’t made her want to take over the world just for the hell of it.

 

“Do we need to have a talk about gender or is this just an exploration?” She asks quietly, Quentin takes in another deep breath and shakes his head.

 

“I’m a guy, promise.” He murmurs, peeking up at her through his bangs. “Just wanted to try it.” He admits.

 

“It’d be okay if you weren’t, just remember that.” She says quietly, keeping her tone casual as she squeezes his hands. “So what are we looking at? Anything in particular you wanted to try? I’m sure some of my blouses could fit you, you’re small enough.” She says as she releases him and heads over to her closet, starting near the back and shifting through the clothes on the hangers.

 

“Nothing too extravagant yet,” Quentin’s standing near the doorway, cheeks still flushed but eyes shining with almost excitement. It was cute, more than cute, she pulls out a flowery blouse that was big on her. It had ruffles and long sleeves, white mottled with pink and orange roses. It was long on her, and the sleeves often fell over her hands, it would probably fit closer to his proportions.

 

“Okay, how about this?” She holds it up for him to look at, he observes it for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders with a small smile.

 

“I-I guess?” He laughs nervously, Margo smirks and steps around him.

 

“Shirt off, Coldwater.” She sets the blouse down on the bed and watches the young man slip off his plaid over-shirt, which was starting to look dingy. She had thought about getting him some new ones, with some brighter colors so at least he didn’t look so lifeless. But she was always hesitant, she didn’t want to get him something that would make him uncomfortable.

 

Quentin accepts the blouse once his shirt is off, holding it with gentle fingers as if afraid to taint it. He slips it on over his head and fits his arms through the sleeves. It’s not an exact fit, there’s a snugness to the waist area and the sleeves are almost too short, but it’s not bad. She can’t help but smile at the sight of him, something about Quentin wearing pretty flowers seemed appropriate.

 

“Well?” Quentin asks, unsure. Margo nods her head towards the full-body mirror across the room.

 

“See for yourself, pretty boy.” She watches him walk over to the mirror, observing himself carefully and twisting to each side to look at his back and the overall fit of the blouse. “It’s a little small, you might be tiny but you have broad shoulders and long arms.” She explains, doesn’t mention his mild love handles that commonly stuck out over the waistband of his jeans for fear of actually hurting his feelings.

 

“I like the ruffles,” He turns to Margo, a close-lipped smile on his face that stretches all the way across. “It’s soft too,” He comments, plucking at the fabric on his chest gently.

 

“Q, we are going to have so much fun.” She says with a smirk, Quentin takes a few long strides over to her and pulls her into a sudden hug.

 

“Thanks, Margo.” He murmurs into her hair, squeezing her gently. Margo wraps her arms around him and returns the hug, resting her face against his shoulder.

 

“Any time, Quentin.” She assures.

 

-

 

“I don’t look stupid, right?” Quentin frets, Margo grabs him by the face, so he’ll look at her.

 

“Quentin, if there’s one thing to learn from this experience, it’s that you are the only one who can decide you look stupid.” She says quietly, Quentin’s eyes shine dangerously. “If you’re going to wear stuff like this, you’re gonna get shit. But you have to decide if it’s worth feeling good about yourself.” She insists, letting him go.

 

“I feel… more confident.” Quentin allows, Margo nods her head. “It looks good, though, right?” He asks once more, she sighs and gives him an exasperated smile.

 

“You look good, Q.” She promises.

 

He’s fitted into some stuff that Margo had bought for him, including a simple white blouse and black tights. It wasn’t too much, like Quentin had asked for, but enough to suit him. He had asked Margo to braid his hair too, it was getting long enough to do that, which she liked. He looked elegant, which wasn’t really a word she ever thought she could use to describe Quentin Coldwater.

 

“Okay, good.” Quentin smiles nervously, Margo steps over to the door and opens it. They walk downstairs together, heading towards the sounds of voices.

 

Eliot is lounging on the couch with a freshman boy, as per usual. He’s talking with Kady, Penny at her side and Alice nearby reading a book. Eliot pauses in his words to glance to the doorway, mouth opened in a greeting.

 

“Bambi, Q, nice of you to…. Join us.” He spots Quentin, and his reaction gains the attention of the others. Margo nudges Quentin, who steps forward and walks over to where Eliot is sitting.

 

“What were we talking about?” Quentin asks, sinking down on Eliot’s other side and propping his arm up on the couch.

 

“Did you put something in my drink?” Penny asks, looking into his half-empty glass. The remark earns him a smack to the chest from Kady, the freshman boy is dismissed by Eliot and Margo sits down on his other side. Margo can see Alice trying not to stare, she buries her face in her book.

 

“Nice tights, Quentin.” Kady tells him with a casual nod, the young man blushes and nods his head with a small smile.

 

“Thanks,” He says gratefully, Eliot wraps an arm around both Quentin and Margo.

 

“I think you look ravishing, Q.” Eliot tells him with a flirty smile, Quentin snorts and Margo rolls her eyes.

 

-

 

“I could definitely get used to this,” Eliot greets when Quentin comes down the stairs in his usual plaid shirt and tee, but instead of his usual skinny jeans, is fitted in a black skirt that drapes to his knees.

 

“You like it?” Quentin asks with a grin towards the both of them, doing a twirl that shows off the flow of the skirt.

 

“The plaid shirt is questionable, but the skirt makes up for it.” Margo allows, Quentin rolls his eyes fondly.

 

“I love,” Eliot insists with a grin, beckoning him forward with an outstretched hand. Quentin approaches, allowing himself to get pulled down into Eliot’s side. He makes sure to cross his legs like Margo taught him, playing with the fabric of the skirt.

 

“I see why girls wear them, my dick can breathe.” Quentin confesses, Eliot snickers and Margo smirks. “You should try this, El.” He urges, Eliot quickly shakes his head.

 

“I already had my clothing exploration in freshman year, Quentin. I might be a flaming queer but I’m sticking to my slacks and suspenders.” He says with a smile as he plucks at one of his purple suspenders. “So, is this a gender thing or an expression thing?” He asks, Quentin leans back and crosses his arms with a relaxed sigh.

 

“I’m a boy,” He says without hesitation.

 

“A pretty boy,” Eliot adds, Quentin giggles quietly.

 

“A pretty boy.” He agrees.

 

-

 

Eliot looks up when Quentin comes racing down the stairs, practically leaping down the last couple before stumbling into the room. He’s wearing a loose-fitted black tank-top and a pair of black tights to match, he approaches Eliot breathlessly.

 

“Trying out for the ballet?” Eliot teases, Quentin huffs and holds out two bottles of nail polish for him to look at.

 

“Sparkly blue, or sparkly purple?” He asks seriously, Eliot takes a look at them both for a moment.

 

“Do you have a lighter blue?” He inquires in reply, Quentin seems to think about this for a moment.

 

“I’ll ask Margo,” He goes racing back up the stairs, Eliot watches him with amusement. He listens to the footsteps stop upstairs, and then there’s a moment of quiet. The footsteps hurry back to the stairs, Eliot’s eyes widen when Quentin comes tumbling down the stairs.

 

“Jesus Christ,” He gets up fast, rushing over to where Quentin is laying at the bottom of the stairs. “Q, you okay?” He crouches down, Quentin rolls over onto his back with a grimace.

 

“Lighter blue,” He murmurs, holding up the bottle. Eliot snorts at him, pulling him into a sitting position then helping him up off the floor.

 

“What the hell’s going on?” Margo asks from the top of the stairs, sounding annoyed but looking mildly worried.

 

“I like the lighter blue!” Eliot calls back, Quentin holds up the bottle for emphasis.

 

“You would,” Margo says with a roll of her eyes, then waves at Quentin. “Come on, Q. We’ll do both colors, blue and purple.” She offers, Quentin looks at his nails a moment as if envisioning it.

 

“Yeah, okay!” He hurries up the stairs, the bottle still clasped in his hand.

 

“No running!” Eliot scolds, Quentin stops at the top of the stairs to flip him him off. Eliot grins to himself, shaking his head as he returns to the couch. Things were a lot more interesting with Quentin’s new style.

 

Eliot doesn’t think he’d have it any other way.


	2. Kilts, Piercings, Bigots, and Unexpected Surprises

“Get a move on, Quentin!” Eliot calls up the stairs with irritation, checking his watch.

 

They were supposed to leave a good ten minutes ago, planned on getting lunch and heading to a local museum to check out an art gallery that Margo had heard good things about. Quentin didn’t usually take this long to get ready, and now even Margo was prepped and ready to leave.

 

“What the hell could he be doing? All he does is put stuff on and go anyway.” Margo says with a scoff, Eliot shrugs and shakes his head slowly. They turn their heads at the sound of a door shutting, and then Quentin is coming down the stairs in a hoodie and skinny jeans.

 

“Whoa there, stranger.” Eliot sticks out a hand to catch him by the chest. “I thought you wanted to wear that new skirt of yours.” He says quietly, Quentin shrugs awkwardly, keeping his eyes pointedly away from them.

 

“I changed my mind,” He mutters.

 

“And why’s that?” Margo questions, crossing her arms.

 

“Because Brakebills is different, these people have seen a lot of shit. New York is scary and tough, I don’t want to get harassed or beat up.” He confesses, and when he glances up at them, his eyes are red.

 

“Quentin, we’d never let anyone hurt you, you know that.” Eliot promises softly, wrapping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.

 

“Yeah, it’s just… scary.” He breathes out quietly, rubbing at his eye. Eliot takes in a deep breath and sighs, letting go of Quentin.

 

“Give me a minute!” He walks up the stairs to his bedroom, digging into his closet until he finds what he’s looking for. It takes him a few minutes to get on, he hadn’t worn it in a while, it was from Halloween sophomore year but that didn’t matter.

 

He quickly changes out the rest of his clothes, finds a pastel green shirt to go with it and a black tie. When he comes down the stairs, Quentin looks a little less of a mess but is hanging on Margo a bit. Both their eyes widen at the sight of Eliot, who tromps down the stairs in a checkered black and green kilt.

 

“Go change, then. I want to match.” He urges, Quentin’s face breaks out into a bright smile and he practically sprints up the stairs.

 

“You’re such a soft touch,” Margo says with a smirk as she leans into Eliot’s side, who sighs and nods his head.

 

“Yeah, I am.” He agrees easily, they share a warm smile. “So are you.” He teases, she huffs.

 

“Just for you and nerd-boy, no more bringing home strays. You know I don’t like caring about people.” She mutters, he nods his head in agreement just as Quentin comes racing down the stairs. His skirt is a dark blue, with light blue flowers on it. He had stripped out of his hoodie and replaced it with a matching blue sweater.

 

“Okay!” He grins, his sneakers squeaking as he hits the bottom of the stairs.

 

“You look nice, Q.” Eliot says with a nod, Quentin hums and laces his arm with Eliot’s.

 

“You do too.” He promises, Eliot can’t help but lean over and give him a soft peck on the lips. Quentin blushes for a good couple of minutes after that.

 

-

 

They take Quentin to a tattoo parlor a few months later, where they also do piercings. The tattoo artist doesn’t bat an eye at the dress peeking out from the bottom of Quentin’s hoodie, just beckons them to take a seat and asks about what they want.

 

After they’ve decided on what he should get as his first piercings, Quentin sits in a chair with a nervous smile as the man gets the stuff ready. He cleans Quentin’s earlobes with disinfectant and then the needle, the only sound being the metal music playing in the background.

 

“I like your skirt,” The man finally says, Quentin smirks and his fingers twitch against the red and orange fabric.

 

“It’s a dress, but thanks.” He says easily, only flushing a little bit.

 

“All right, here we go.” He takes the needle to Quentin’s ear, who sits pliantly still.

 

They finish up with the piercings, which Quentin seems to love once he’s seen the results. He pulls his hair back in a small ponytail and they leave the shop. Quentin smiles proudly all the way to the café they decide to eat at.

 

Eliot and Quentin sit on one side of the booth and Margo on the other, they talk while they eat. More than once, Margo has to threaten Quentin for talking with food in his mouth. Eventually, after they finish their food, Quentin calls for a bathroom break and slides out of his seat.

 

Margo doesn’t see it, but she hears the noise Quentin makes when he trips and falls. They both turn their heads as Quentin starts to pull himself off the tiles, looking back at the person in the table behind Margo.

 

“Did you just trip me?” He asks in pure disbelief, and Margo finds herself in surprise too.

 

“Nah, you just need to watch where you’re stepping, faggot.” A man chuckles, Margo feels a fiery rage shoot through her, Eliot is on his feet before she is.

 

“C’mere, Q.” Eliot helps the young man to his feet, Margo leans against the man’s booth and glares at the two men sitting in it.

 

“Can I help you little miss?” The other man says, giving her an obvious once-over.

 

“Guys, it’s okay.” Quentin mutters, Eliot wraps an arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

 

“Do we have a problem, gentlemen?” Eliot asks, the two men in the booth make eye contact and smother chuckles by ducking their heads.

 

“Sorry, we don’t speak queer.” The man closest to Margo says with a grin.

 

“Well it’s probably because you speak micropenis, so listen up because I’m fluent.” Margo snaps, earning the men’s heated glares. “This homophobia shit isn’t cute anymore, it’s the twenty-first century and you should join us. You both could use some concealer, because your skin looks like a greasy wasteland covered in big red mountains of adult acne.” She waves a hand, then turns to step closer to Quentin.

 

“Excuse me?” One man says in a growl.

 

“Sorry, I don’t speak heterosexual.” Eliot says casually, lacing his fingers in Quentin’s. “Come on, Margo. Let’s take Quentin to the bathroom.” He urges, she nods her head and follows.

 

They stop in the hallway when Quentin turns suddenly and wraps himself around Margo. She staggers a little at the impact, letting out a small gasp at the tightness of the hug.

 

“Thank you,” He says quietly, voice wavering. When he pulls away, he wraps himself around Eliot next. “You too, El.” He mutters against the man’s chest, who smooths a hand over Quentin’s hair and hugs him back.

 

“I told you, we’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He presses a kiss to Quentin’s temple and then they break apart. “Bambi, do us a favor and stay close. Don’t go back out there without us.” Eliot mutters, glancing towards the end of the hall warily and reaching out to squeeze her hand briefly.

 

“Hurry it up, huh?” Margo says, looking mildly unnerved. It had shaken the three of them in different ways, and sure Margo could definitely tell a guy off but it was risky for her. They needed to get out of there before things really went wrong.

 

“Just open the door if you need us,” Eliot assures, pressing a quick kiss to her head. “Not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” He smirks, they disappear inside.

 

She waits patiently for them, and then they return to the main area to pay. The waitress they were served by stops them before they can leave, informing them that the men they had gotten confronted by were actually waiting outside.

 

“Shit,” Eliot mutters, running a hand over his curls. “I doubt I can take them.” He says quietly, as if actually debating this. Quentin looks surprised at the words, but Margo knows that Eliot has taken on quite a few bigots in his days. He might be above rough and tumble violence, but when push came to shove, he could throw a sincere right hook.

 

“We have a back door,” The woman offers, Margo shoots her a grateful look as Eliot and Quentin quietly thank her. They slip out the back, onto the street, and head home. Eliot holds Margo and Quentin’s hands the whole way back to their portal.

 

-

 

Quentin looks up at the knock on his door, and his eyes widen when Penny slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

 

“I can scream a lot louder than you might think,” He insists, sitting up and slipping off his mattress warily. He holds up the book he has in his hand as a weak version of protection.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Penny waves his hand, crossing his arms and sighing quietly as he glares at the floor in irritation. “You know that black skirt you wore like a couple days ago?” He asks, Quentin nods slowly, eyes wide. “Would you…. Do you think I could try it on, maybe?” He snaps, Quentin drops the Fillory book from his hand.

 

“You want to wear my skirt?” He asks quietly, unsure, looking around for any cameras.

 

“It’s a yes or no question, prick.” Penny throws his hands out in exasperation.

 

“Um, yeah, I guess…” He walks over to his closet and opens the door, searching for the skirt in question. “Is this like… A dare or something?” He questions as Penny takes the skirt into his hands.

 

“No I just…” He glares at Quentin, then his expression softens slightly. “I just wanted to, all right?” He mutters begrudgingly, Quentin slowly nods his head.

 

“All right,” He returns to his bed, picking up his book and going back to reading. Penny strips off his jeans and Quentin resolutely does not look until he’s sure the man is redressed.

 

“It’s short,” Penny says quietly, fidgeting with the hem. “You’re short,” He says automatically, Quentin rolls his eyes.

 

“It looks nice,” He gestures to the mirror hanging on the wall, Penny turns to look at himself.

 

“Huh…” Penny stares at himself for a moment, then seems to remember that Quentin is in the room. He clears his throat and slips the skirt off, dropping it onto the mattress.

 

“So?” Quentin inquires, Penny points a finger at him.

 

“Not a word to anyone, or you’re dead.” He says sincerely, Quentin holds up his hands in a defensive gesture.

 

“Okay, Jesus!” He exclaims. “Get anger management therapy or something.” He mutters as the man gets back into his jeans, storming out shortly after. He shakes his head as he finds his place in his book again, scoffing quietly… What a prick.

 

-

 

“Got something to say?” Penny snaps to the first guy that looks at him funny, posturing up for a fight. Quentin liked his first choice in skirt, it was black with white patterns all over it, it looked like something Kady might wear. He guessed she might have helped him pick it out.

 

“N-No!” The guy shakes his head, then turns away nervously.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Penny collapses into a chair across the room, he meets Quentin’s eyes briefly, and nods. Quentin gives him a quiet wave and ignores the look Margo and Eliot give him.


End file.
